


More Than Enough

by GrapieBee



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Imprisonment, M/M, Mute Link, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence, on hiatus as of 1/24/2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-10-31 19:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10906140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrapieBee/pseuds/GrapieBee
Summary: The fact remained as such: Prince Sidon was dead and the Zora King would have to clean up the mess his son had left behind. One last time.





	1. The Mess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissGillette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGillette/gifts).
  * Inspired by [KATSUAI - Thirsty Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802250) by [MissGillette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGillette/pseuds/MissGillette). 



> My interpretation of what could happen after Princess Zelda stopped her search for the Hero of Hyrule. Please read the originating work first before continuing.

Prince Sidon was dead. His son, his only son, was gone.

Despite how awful that fact should have made King Dorephan feel, a small wave of relief intermingled with the grief. He knew that his son was never meant to take the throne. But by the time this realization had dawned on him, it was too late.

While he was lost in his grief that followed Mipha’s death, Sidon had grown up. He had lost the chance to not only teach his son the meaning of being a decent ruler, but also on how to be a decent person.

By the time Dorephan could pull himself from his depression long enough to care about anything other than his own pain, his son had grown into something frightening.

He never learned to accept **_no_** as an answer. He never would.

For every little thing he pursued, it was always done to his specifications. Even when other parties were involved, Sidon had a way of making others to see things his way. Either through being charming, or by using force.

The same could be said of his pursuits of a mate. There came a point in time where Muzu was escorting Zoras near Sidon’s age into see the King weekly, each one with their own horrific story and the bruises to match. It became so common that the King had a speech memorized, practiced as if a scene from a play.

He opened with his deepest regrets, apologizing profusely. He would then make promises that he would personally see to Sidon’s behavior being reformed, that no one else would have to go through what they did. Then he would make request that was more of a command, telling them to keep the incident from circulating the rumor mills. That it would always be in their best interest to do so. A small sack of expensive rupees set in their hands before being sent on their way, with a reminder to never mention the event ever again.

He was their King and Sidon was their Prince. No one so far had declined this approach to Sidon’s behavior.

Though, when the Hero of Hyrule suddenly disappeared after a visit to Zora’s Domain, both he and Muzu had an idea of where he had vanished to.

They knew and they did nothing to remedy the situation. How could they, he reasoned with himself.

Sidon no longer needed to hound his own citizens to satiate his needs. A month passed. Then a second. Then a third. In that time, not a single Zora had been brought to him to report his son. No one had a new claim to make about Sidon taking them to the room he kept below the Zora Palace. Not a one.

By the fourth month, he knew he could not take the Hero away from Sidon.

His son finally had someone more permanent to focus his angry obsessions on. The King would not take that peace away from his people, even if it meant the loss of the Hero in exchange.

Though Dorephan was sure Sidon had brought Link to the deepest and lowest recesses of the palace where no one should be able to hear them, he swore he could still hear screaming from his own private chambers. Only every now and then though.

He did his best to ignore it.

The fact remained as such: Prince Sidon was dead and the Zora King would have to clean up the mess his son had left behind.

One last time.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Link’s world for so long now had consisted of only Sidon. Everything had revolved around the Prince’s demands, his hands, his body, and his terrible, beautiful voice, that the arrival of someone else was almost a shock to Link’s system.

It was a Zora, dressed in garb that he knows makes him a guard, he had never met before that he woke up to undoing the shackles around his ankles and wrists. He goes still, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Sidon had never allowed someone else in here before. What was this? Was this some sort of new trick, some new means to make Link keep on his toes?

Link wracked his brain through the last time the Prince had been with him, playing through each awful moment, trying to figure out what he might have done to displease him. He’d done everything the Prince wanted, had given him every reaction he normally loved. What had he done wrong?

He couldn’t help the hard flinch that wracked his body when the stranger in the room roughly pulled at the silver around his neck, trying to find how it came undone.

As he had thought many times since it had been placed there, he was certain it had been imbued with some sort of contraption only Sidon could undo. That it would only be removed once his head was no longer attached to his neck.

The guard eventually grunted in frustration, giving up on trying to find how it could be removed.

“Up.”

The sound of voice other than the Prince’s almost grated against his ears, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Despite his fear and rising panic, he obeyed the Zora and sat up on the bed.

As he did, something soft hit him against the chest. His body flinched again, instinctively. Looking down at what had been thrown at him, he found a thin tunic and pants. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers, his confusion growing with every minute.

“Get dressed, we’re going upstairs.”

Again, another wave of cold panic settled in his throat and threatened to drown him. Upstairs? What did he mean by upstairs?

He did his best to swallow past it and again, obeyed the command. The tunic was old and soft from too many washes; even still, the fabric against his skin felt heavy and scratchy. It had been so long since he’d been allowed to wear clothes, it had become such a foreign sensation to him.

His attention snapped forward as the guard pulled the chain still attached to the metal around his neck through the neck hole of his tunic, tugging on it.

“Come on, don’t have all night.”

As quickly as his weakened body would allow him, Link slipped the pants over his lower half. Again, the material felt all wrong against his skin.

With another tug against his neck, he began to walk, following the guard through the door of the room that had been his world for so long.

Again, the panic swirled in his throat, in his gut, cold and clawing at him from under his skin. This was new. This was something new in the routine that had become his life.

Every time before, when something new had happened to him, it had always been for the worse. He blinked his eyes rapidly, his gaze cast down to his feet, trying to push back the tears that threatened to spill onto his face.

What had he done? It must have been something awful for the Prince to go to such length to torment him.

Before he had time to work up his panic further, before tears could spill down his face, he was being roughly shoved into a cell, the chains that remained attached to him hooked to a loop on the wall, giving him enough leeway to lie on the low-lying cot in the corner of the prison cell.

Having finished transporting him, the guard left the cell and closed the bars behind him with a deafening _clunk_ , leaving Link to his thoughts.

Link stood still, trying everything in his power to quell the shaking in his limbs. Surely, whatever the Prince had planned would come soon.

He waited for hours, scared and alone, as he had been for years.

He waited. For what, he wasn’t sure.

Princess Zelda had not seen hind nor hair of the Hero of Hyrule in nearly two and a half years.

When asked why she continued to search, of why she was so sure it was still worth the effort, why didn’t she think he was simply gone, she only offered a pointed glance. 

Link was not dead, that she could say with certainty. The same connection that had existed between them during her century battle within the Calamity still existed, to a certain extent.

While she could no longer speak to him directly, had no way of knowing exactly where he was in the world, she could feel him, knew that he still walked amongst the living. It was faint and weak and barely present, but it was that connection that kept her searching. He was out there. Why he could not be found, she could not say.

 After two years of actively searching every corner of Hyrule, she begrudgingly called off her search.

Or, at least, publicly.

She still kept eyes and ears all over Hyrule. Watching, waiting for whatever was keeping Link captive to let its guard down.

Her patience paid off, as only months after that public announcement, a whisper made its way to her.

She had heard that Prince Sidon had been killed, attacked by a group of elite Yiga as he made his way for a visit to a slowly rebuilding Central Hyrule. What she had further heard through public channels was that one of those in the attacking party had been captured. Had been taken back to Zora’s Domain, was being held in their prison cells. She also heard whispers that they would be shortly be put to death.

What she had not heard from those public channels though, was that the one being held bore a terrible resemblance to the Hero of Hyrule.

The moment those words had reached her, she’d put herself into action, penning a correspondence addressed directly to King Dorephan.

In so many words, she asked him to allow her to meet the assassin. As a royal of Hyrule herself, it was in her best interest to learn what she could from this Yiga member. They would not want another tragedy to dampen Hyrule’s passion to rebuild itself, could not afford it. She would have to speak with this captured Yiga member for herself, to glean from him what she could.

For her and Hyrule’s protection, of course.

Once she sent the letter off, she began preparing to leave.

While it was uncouth of her to not wait for a reply from the Zora King, she knew that if the rumors were true, she could not afford to give Dorephan time to plan a reason to reject her visit.

It would be harder to send her away when she had already traveled so far, then to simply send her a rejection letter.

Worst case scenario, if this person wasn’t Link, if they really were just a member of the Yiga Clan, she could chalk up her rudeness to nerves. Certainly, Dorephan could not fault her for not wanting to meet the same fate as his son had.

She had to see this supposed assassin for herself, had to know if the rumor she heard was true.

If Link really was in Zora’s Domain, she would find him.

One way or another.

\---------------------------------------------------------

“My King, what are we to do about this?” Muzu asked, having just finished reading the letter from Princess Zelda.

Dorephan pondered what the letter had said, knew what complications could befall his kingdom should the Hylian Princess see who it was they had locked in the dungeons.

He’d planned, originally, to take care of two birds with one stone on this matter. The announcement of the capture of the Yiga Clan member responsible for the death of the Prince had only been a few days prior. A public execution would ease the minds of his citizens, make the passing of their Prince easier to bear. The Hero would fill in the need of a live body to execute and die with a bag over his head. His sons final mess would be cleaned up, his people’s minds put at ease, and things could return to a semblance of normalcy.

No one had to be any the wiser that the Hero hadn’t died years ago.

This letter, however, changed everything. It did not leave him with many options to still make this all work. If Zelda arrived to news of the execution having already been carried out, she would certainly have her suspicions. If she was permitted to speak with the prisoner, he knew she would know who he was.  If she just didn’t get the chance to speak with him…if she could see a body that was instantly recognizably as the Hero…

All he had left was his reputation and he could not afford to have his people’s faith in him shaken, not so shortly after the death of their only Prince.

He was walking a very, very thin line. He could not afford to let this fall apart around him.

“Muzu.” His voice was quiet, especially quiet for his size, as he turned to his adviser.

“Yes, my King?”

The throne room was empty. No wandering ears could hear his request.

 “Do you still have that stash of poison?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Bazz grumbled under his breath as he walked to the dungeons. As the Captain of the Guard, he always knew there would be certain aspects of the job that would be unpleasant. He had expected those things to include leading troops into battle or breaking up petty squabbles within the ranks.

He never thought he’d be required to babysit a regicidal Hylian.

He swallowed the sour taste the thought left in his mouth, doing his best to keep his face expressionless. The normal guard who watched over those set for an execution would be gone for a few months. With a newborn in his household, there would be no time to focus on anything else.

No one else would take this post. Not because no one was willing to help, but because no one else wanted to stand watch over the person who had helped kill their Prince. So, it fell to him to, as Captian of the Guard, to take over that post.

The Prince’s death had only been a few days ago. The funeral rites had been preformed, but no corpse was present. His body had been too terribly mangled by the Yiga that had attacked him and his slew of guards. Only one from that escort party had managed to make it back, bloodied and near death. It had taken him everything to speak about what had happened, to let them know that the Prince had fallen, before he was gone.

Those of his troops that had recovered the bodies would only mention that it was for the better that no one else see Sidon like that.

Bazz sighed deeply as he reached the cell he’d been told the prisoner was locked up in, sweeping those terrible thoughts from his mind. He had a job to do. He’d been told it would only be a few days before the prisoners. Nothing more and nothing less.

As he approached the cell, he peered in, wanting to get a look at the person who had played a hand in the death of the Prince.

What his eyes saw, confused him slightly. Huddled in the cot of the cell, facing away from him, lay a thin body. Too thin, Bazz found himself thinking, to ever possibly take down one of his subordinates, let alone the looming bulk that had been Prince Sidon.

Bazz was not particularly good at telling male Hylians apart from the female at first glance and this person was no different. He could see that they were dressed in a gray tunic that was just the slightest bit too big on them, same with the pants. Their hair was a deep, golden color that was long enough to reach past their lower back, were they standing up. The other item that caught his interest was a chain, hooked into a loop on the wall, that snaked down rest with the pile of a person on the cot. He could not see where it was attached to.

This certainly did not look like a person who could hardly hold up their own body weight, let alone murder someone.

Shaking the thought from his mind, he knocked the bottom of his spear against the bars, watching the person curl in on themselves even tighter than before.

“Turn to face me, won’t you?”

The person paused for but a moment, before obeying his command. The slight shake of the body’s shoulders did not go missed by Bazz. He watched as they turned over in the cot, their movements jerky and uncertain. Their long hair tumbled over their shoulders as they sat up.

Their face, beautiful and unblemished, had sharp angles to it that would certainly be softer with a few hearty meals in them. He could see now that the chain leading from the wall was attached to a thick ring of silver around their neck. While it wasn’t uncommon for prisoners in their care to be shackled by a ankle or a hand, but he had never seen someone shackled by the neck. He could see that their gaze was directed at the floor and their bangs hung long. Even still, he could make out the color of their eyes. A true, deep blue. A blue he had only seen on one other Hylian before…

He paused his thoughts, brow furrowing. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

He moved closer to the cell, his face almost pressed against the bars, staring intently. The more he looked, the more those features looked familiar. Thinner, older, but still familiar.

“Master Link?” He said, his voice just above that of a whisper.

It was only the small flicker of Link’s eyes that told Bazz he had heard him, had recognized his name.

Before he could say another word, a voice called to him from the end of the hallway.

He turned to the voice, pulling back from the bars.

“Well, hello Bazz. I see you were put on duty for _this_.” The voice belonged to a Zora younger then himself, delivering the meals for the few prisoners in their keep.

He nodded in greeting, not trusting his voice at that moment.

The younger Zora unloaded the cart, handing him his own rations given to guards on special assignments. It was a simple dish of hearty rice balls, stuffed with fish. The other Zora pulled another bundle of rice balls, from the bottom most compartment of his cart.

“Kings orders, he wants this one to eat everything he’s given tonight. Have a good night Bazz.”

As soon as he had come, he was gone, the wheels of his cart squeaking as he went. Bazz turned to the tightly bundled package of food, confused by it. The King had never given direct orders about a prisoner’s meal before. He set his spear against the bars of the cell and tucked his own meal safely under his arm before he opened what was to be Link’s meal.

He immediately could tell that there was something off about it. It was a set of rice balls, nearly identical to his own, but they were coated lightly with what he recognized as Goron Spice. It was not a commodity easily found in these parts of the world.

When other prisoners didn’t even get salt to season their food, why was this meal prepared with something so much more expensive?

Cautiously, he pulled the bundle closer to his face and took a deep breath. Mixed in with the nearly overwhelming smell of spices, there was something that did not belong. The smell was sharp and acidic and reminded him of a plant that had made him deathly ill as a child. He took another deep whiff, wanting to make sure he knew what he was smelling. It was still there, now stronger that he knew what he was smelling for.

He shook his head in confusion for a moment as he pulled the rice balls from his face. He re-wrapped them and placed them on the floor next to his spear. The food wasn’t coated in the spices as a means to flavor it. It was covering for something else, something that would certainly kill a person twice Link’s size.

Pulling his own parcel of food from under his arm, he took a key that sat on a ring at his waist and opened the cell door, not missing the way Link ducked his head closer to his chest.

What in the world had happened to him?

He stepped forward and crouched in front of the much smaller Hylian. His face was now completely shadowed by his long bangs, making it impossible for Bazz to read his expression.

He shifted himself ever so slightly and unwrapped his own rice balls, offering one up to Link after giving them a deep smell too. Just to be safe.

When Link didn’t immediately take the offered food, Bazz held it closer to him, thinking that he perhaps hadn’t seen it. When he saw Link flinch again, he pulled his hand back a little, unsure of how to proceed.

“It’s ok, Master Link. You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to-”

As if those words were a switch, Link’s head tilted up enough for him to look at Bazz and to the food in his hand, his eyes full of panic. He watched as the Hylian slowly reached for the rice ball, his fingers wrapping around it uncertainly. Bazz let it go only once he was certain Link had a firm grip on it, watching as he pulled it to his mouth, taking only the smallest bite from it.

Bazz stood back up and re-wrapped the remainder of his dinner. Where had he been all this time? Why was the King so certain that Link was part of the party that had killed his son?

He knew, watching Link slowly, hesitantly feed himself, that this was not the man who had killed Prince Sidon.

“Master Link, where have you been all this time?”

The words he’d been wanting to ask since he knew who it was he was guarding tumbled from his mouth.

He watched as Link paused, his head lifting just ever so slightly to look up at Bazz. He could see that the Hylian was pondering his question, trying to weigh the pros and cons of something, before he pointed to the floor with his left hand.

The fact that he seemed unable to fully form a fist was not missed.

“You’ve been in this cell?” He asked, not able to understand what Link was trying to tell him.

Again, he could see Link’s eyes shift nervously, almost panicked, as he again seemed to weigh how to answer the question.

Eventually, he shook his head no, and again pointed to the ground.

“You’ve…you’ve been here? In Zora’s Domain?”

Another pause before he answered with a slow nod.

“Where? Everyone was looking for you for so long.”

Link remained silent to this question, his head ducking to his chin once more.

Despite his further questioning, Link remained like that until Bazz had removed himself from the cell. He then lay down in the cot once more, his back to the cell door, rice ball still in hand.

Confused by what the sudden reappearance of the Hylian Champion might be indicative of, Bazz needed a moment to clear his thoughts. Grabbing his spear from where it still sat against the bars, he crouched to scoop up the tainted parcel of food. He needed to make sure this was disposed of properly, least anyone else find and try to eat it.

He took his leave of the cell block, just for a short while and just to slow his racing thoughts.

The poisoned food, Master Link’s sudden reappearance, in the dungeons of Zora’s Domain no less…they were all parts of a puzzle that he could not yet piece together.

But he would. He had to.

\-----------------------------------------

King Dorephan was livid. It might never show on his face or in his actions in a notable way, but it coiled around in his gut, like writhing snake.

He had gotten two reports, near simultaneously, that morning. One told him the arrival of Princess Zelda and her group of hooded Sheikah guards. The other was a night report from the guard who had watched over the Hero; it reported him still alive as of this guard being relieved from duty.

He would have find where his chain of communication had failed him. Punishment would have to be severe. It was the only thought that kept him from panicking as the Princess of Hyrule entered his throne room, her features just as expressionless as his own.

“Good morning, King Dorephan.” She offered, with a polite bow.

He did not return her greeting nor her bow.

She straightened her back, clasping her hands in front of her.

“I suppose you received my letter then?”

“Aye, I did. You do know, Princess, it is usually considered in poor taste to seek audience with a King and not wait for his reply back.”

“I do, sire. However, given the weight of the situation, I do hope you will forgive my rudeness. If the Yiga Clan is beginning to target leaders of Hyrule’s people, this matter need be addressed sooner, rather then later. Certain formalities slow that process down.”

Dorephan kept his face impassive, but that snake in his gut writhed again.

“understandable, Princess. I will have the prisoner prepared for questioning tomorrow. I will see to it that you and your party-”

“If I may interrupt, waiting to see the prisoner will not be necessary. I will see them now and get what information I can from them. Should they need further persuasion to talk, I would be happy to assist where I can.”

This little bitch, making demands of him in his own Domain.

“Time is of the essence, that I understand Princess. But there are procedures in place for a reason. I cannot just have you waltzing into my dungeons without following those-”

“Do not patronize me, Dorephan.”

The Zora King could hear Muzu sputter angrily at the way she had addressed the King.

Dorephan stared down at the small Hylian woman, her green-blue eyes cold as iron as she stares right back and he knows. She had come here knowing, somehow already aware, of who it was that he held in his dungeons.

The panic and rage he’d been doing his best to quell both reared their ugly heads in unison. It must have shown on his face; several of the Princess’ guards stepped forward, hands at the ready to pull swords and bows from their hiding spots.

Zelda did not falter and held his stare, her eyes icy.

“It would be in your best interest to leave now, Princess.” His voice is low and threatening.

Again, Zelda does not so much as flinch.

“I will do no such thing. You forget, I fought Calamity Ganon for a century, King of the Zora. You cannot intimidate me. Your reluctance for me to meet the man you’re holding captive tells me everything I need to know. You will release the Hero of Hyrule into my care this moment.”

“What if I refuse? I need only snap my fingers and my entire personal guard will be upon you. My son was just killed by a band from the Yiga Clan. It would not be hard to convince the rest of the world that you befell the same fate.”

Dorephan could not stand the fact that this girl’s iron cold stare did not falter, even in the face of a death threat.

“You will do no such thing, Dorephan, not unless you want the remaining races of Hyrule to descend upon you. They each received a letter from me, just as you did. Those letters, however, have requested that they send their best warriors to search for me in Zora’s Domain, should I not send them a confirmation of my safety within five days’ time. Did you know that today is the fourth day of that timeline?”

The King wanted nothing more than to rip her head off in that moment.

“…what are your demands?”

Whoever had been responsible for that poisoned meal not making it into the Hero’s mouth would have to be punished terribly.

\-----------------------------------------------

The world had begun to move so fast around him, too fast for him to take in. The chain that tethered him to the wall was removed, though the silver around his neck remained.

He was being pushed and moved by the same guard that had taken him from the room to the prison cell. The Zora did not say anything to him this time, just continued to urge him forward.

His heart thudded in his ears. This had to be something designed by the Prince, something to remind him of how good he had it in his room below. Hylia, why wouldn’t they just put him back already?

He walks for what feels like hours, the guard urging him to go faster the entire way, his legs aching and screaming from overuse. He cannot recall the last time he’d been allowed to walk freely without his shackles.

It was only when he feels a breeze coming through the tunnel that some of Link’s rising panic ebbs, for the slightest moment. He hadn’t had a breath of fresh air, felt the wind on his skin, in so long. But he was not given a chance to enjoy it, as he is ushered forward once more.

They eventually come to the source of the fresh air as the tunnel gives way to an opening that deposited them on a slope. He was nearly overwhelmed by everything around him, trying to engrave every last sensation into his memory. The feel of the grass under his feet, the way the breeze gently ruffled his long hair, the way the sunset colored the sky. Who knew when this trick would be over with? He wanted to take what memories he could with him when the rug was finally pulled out from underneath him.

His panic thudded through his veins, renewed and cold and terrible, when he saw a group of hooded figures atop horses.

What was this what was this _what was this_ -

The guard that had led him through the tunnel touched the blunt end of his spear to Link’s back, pushing him forward once more.

“Go with them.”

Link was half tempted to turn around, just the littlest bit, to try and plead with the guard. To try to tell him, silently, to take him back to that room he’d spent so much time in. Whatever Sidon was upset with him about, he would work hard to make it up to him. He’d eat more of his food, he wouldn’t cry at all, he’d do anything asked of him without question. He just wanted this cruel trick to be done with.

But, Sidon had taught him well to obey a command. The guard wouldn’t ask him to keep moving if the Prince hadn’t wanted him to. He was certain, even in his confusion, that whatever this was, it was still in line with Sidon’s wishes. His left arm, his sword arm, flexed instinctively at the thought, the small movement making it ache. He couldn’t afford to entice Sidon’s rage like that ever again. Who knew what else he might break.

So, he stepped forward, body shaking. None of the figures spoke, their faces still hidden by the shadows their hoods cast over their faces. Once he was closer, one of the figures dismounted and approached him. Instinctively, Link stilled, eyes suddenly turned down to his feet. Here it was, this had to be it, here was the fallout from this. This had to be the part of the test he’d failed and Sidon would be grabbing him too tightly on the shoulders or hands or throat any moment now. These people would leave and Sidon would have his treasure to himself again for all eternity. Oh Hylia, what should he had done different-

But none of his fears turn into reality. Sidon did not appear. The party on horseback does not disappear. The man who’d dismounted gently pulled him closer to the horse he’d jumped from, helping him mount the animal, his own feet too unsure and unsteady to get himself up. Once settled at the front of the saddle, the man climbed on and settled himself in as well.

Without another word, the party began to ride. Had Link dared to look back, he would have seen the palace of Zora’s Domain growing smaller and smaller in the distance. But he doesn’t, he can’t.

He was still waiting for the punchline of this terrible, cruel joke that was being played on him.


	2. The Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda rides. Bazz has a meeting with the King.

Zelda rode in tandem with the guards around her, her hood firmly on her head. Her horse was brown with a black mane, just like her guards. There was no need for her to stand out from those who protected her, no reason to make her an easier target for any eyes that might seek to find her.

It’s because of this, the fact that they are still in a domain where a Prince was just recently killed, that she does not immediately embrace Link when she sees him step from the lip of that cave.

Instead, she watched him from afar and her heart had ached at the sight. He was thin, malnourished and on the verge of emaciation. His hair was long and hung in his face, making it near impossible to fully see his expression. What little she could see was panic stricken.

The guard closest to the Link dismounted and she could see Link shuffle backwards in fear. Dear gods, what in the world had happened to him here?

They rode through the night, keeping the pace as fast as they could, putting as must distance between them and Zora’s Domain as they could. They did not rest and Zelda’s hips are aching by the time they reach the outskirts of Castle Town. The buildings and houses, some still so new the paint could still be drying on them, whizzed past them. The castle loomed just ahead; while not yet complete in its rebuilding, enough had been repaired to make it habitable.

The Princess only breathes a sigh of relief once they are behind the castle walls and heavy wooden doors were closed behind them.

She immediately dismounted in one smooth motion and made her way to the horse that Link rode on. His long hair had become wind swept and, with his long bangs no longer in his face, she could see his face clearly.

When she looked at him, all she saw was terror and confusion.

As the guard Link had ridden with dismounted, he shrunk in on himself, trying it seemed, to make himself as small as possible. When the guard offered him a hand, to help him dismount, Link’s eyes widened and he gently shook his head, like it was second nature to him. He swung his leg over the horse and awkwardly landed on his feet, lost his balance and fell on his behind. Before she or anyone else can try to help him up, he scrambled to his feet, head tucked to his chin and face hidden behind his hair.

Zelda felt her heart ache yet again and she finally moved to greet him, pulling the hood of her cloak down as she did. He stilled as she approached, eyes still cast downwards. He hadn’t seen her face yet.

“Link, it’s alright.”

She watched as his eyes widened and his head snapped up to look her in the eye. It’s a moment before his expression begins to relax, just the smallest bit, as he recognizes her.

Brokenly, he begins to sign to her. His motions are clunky and unpracticed, this was made no better by the fact that his left hand did not seem to want to form the way he needed it to. A nasty, thick pink series of scars peeked from the hem of his sleeve and she wondered for just a moment how he got them. Still, she watched his hands intently, trying to glean what he was trying to say.

‘…found…me…’

“Yes, we found you Link. You’re safe here.”

He blinked rapidly for a moment and Zelda could see that his eyes were watery, that he was trying to keep tears at bay.

He began to sign again, but for the life of her, Zelda could not understand him.

“I’m sorry Link, slow down a little, your signing is hard to read with your hand like that.”

His brow furrowed in frustration and he bite his lip. He sighed and started again, this time signing out each letter with his right hand.

‘W-H-E-R-E-S-I-D-O-N’

“Link, why do you-“

‘D-I-D-H-E-F-O-L-L-O-W-U-S’

It was the Princess’ turn to furrow her brow. He’d been in Zora’s Domain, likely for the entirety of the time he was missing. How could he not have heard? Had no one said a word to him?

“Link, there’s no way he…where were you kept?” She suddenly changed the subject, trying to discern why it was that her Knight was asking these questions with such fear in his eyes.

He paused for a long moment, glancing around at the guards surrounding them. He was nervous, on the verge of terror. That emotion seemed to be his new baseline and the thought made her gut boil in anger. Patiently, she stepped a little closer to him, blocking his hands from the guards’ line of sight as best she could.

“It’s ok Link. No one will hurt you, regardless of what you do or don’t tell. I give you my word, I will not let anyone hurt you here.”

Even with her promise, Link still wrung his hands together and his shoulder shook. He was like an exposed nerve being buffeted in a harsh storm.

Eventually, he began to sign again.

‘B-L-U-E-R-O-O-M’

Another long pause, one in which Zelda waited patiently or him to start again. While she was anxious to know what had happened to him in the years since he’d disappeared, she knew trying to rush him would do more harm than good. Eventually, Link swallowed hard and began once more, his hands shaking harder.

‘S-I-D-O-N’ a short pause and then ‘H-E-L-D-M-E’. He shook his head softly, his hands moving as if to dissipate what he had signed.

He started once more.

‘I-M-P-R-I-S-I-O-N-E-D-M-E’ and ‘B-R-O-K-E-M-E’ were slowly spelled out, followed by the sign for ‘pain’.

Over and over and over he repeated that last sign. Zelda was unsure if he was reiterating the sign to make sure she understood him or if it was to illustrate how many times Sidon had caused him harm. It was then that old scars on his wrists, some still sporting healing bruises, caught her eye. That, coupled with the silver collar that still hung around his throat, illustrated only a portion of the hell he must have endured.

She clenched her hands into tight fists and a part of her wished the Zora Prince was still alive, if only so she could rip him apart herself.

“Link, Sidon can never hurt you. Not anymore.”

Again, Link’s eye peeked at her through his long bangs, his eyes on the verge of tears.

‘A-R-E-Y-O-U-S-U-R-E’

“Yes Link, he cannot hurt you, never again. He’s dead, he’s gone, he was killed days ago.”

At those words, Zelda watched as Link’s expression finally crumbled.

His face pinched together as tears finally broke over the bottom lids of his eyes and slid down his cheeks, his hands instinctively rising to cover his mouth as a broken smile formed. This sight, however, wasn’t what finally broke Zelda’s own composure. It was the sound he made; a terrible mix of a sob and a laugh, it wracked his body again and again, making him shake from head to toe.

Zelda closed the remaining gap between them, pulling him into a gentle hug, her own eyes watering now. When he didn’t pull away, when he instead pressed his face to her shoulder, his crying laughter muted further by the thick fabric of her cloak, she hugged him just a little bit tighter.

She had no way of knowing yet what he had been through. Perhaps she never would.

Though, whatever darkness the dead Prince had sowed within Link, she would be there to help him pluck it out, like terrible weeds in a beautiful garden.

If it took years and oceans worth of patience, she would help him weather his pain and pluck the terrors from his heart.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Bazz made his way to the throne room, a cold concern growing in his gut. He had never been called to have an audience with the King by himself, though he supposed there was a first time for everything.

He climbed the stairs to the throne room, his steps even and slow. The summons he received had not detailed what it was the King wanted to speak with him about. He figured, as the Captain of the Guard, it would have something to do with his duties to his job. Perhaps even discussion of a promotion of some sort.

He could not have been less prepared for the look his King had in his eyes. While his face was passive, his eyes told a different story as they were icy and blazing at the same time. He had never seen such a look directed at him before. He licked his lips nervously and swallowed deeply when he finally stood before Dorephan, bowing deeply in greeting.

“My King, how can I be of service to you today?”

The King, so normally relaxed in his throne, leaned forward, making his giant body loom over where Bazz stood. The Captain of the Guard couldn’t help but feel that his King was trying to be intimidating. He also couldn’t help but feel that it was working.

“Bazz, I have brought you here to ask a few questions of you. The night before last, you were put on night watch at the prison, correct?”

“Yes sir, I was.”

“You were specifically assigned to the prisoner captured from the Yiga Clan, the one in connection with the murder of my son, correct?”

The cold lump of concern grew even bigger in his gut. He kept his face passive as he answered his King’s questions.

 “Yes sir, that is correct.”

“Bazz, were you not given explicit instructions to ensure that the prisoner ate the meal that was given to them?”

Should he tell him what he knew? Should he let the King know he recognized that prisoner? A twinge of doubt nipped at his gut and he knew not to second guess his own instincts.

He stayed calm, even as he watched the fire and ice in the King’s eyes grow hotter and harder with each passing moment. He could navigate this. He could figure this puzzle out. He just needed to keep his head about him.

“I was, your Majesty.”

“Tell me, Bazz, did you follow that direct order of mine?”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Stay calm.

“I was unable to, sire. The food was seasoned in a way the prisoner would not abide by. I ended up giving them a portion of my own meal to-”

The King held up one of his giant hands, cutting him off.

“It does not matter why you did it. The fact of the matter remains; you were given a direct order from your King and you failed to follow it. Perhaps even refused to. For that reason, as your King, I hereby strip you of your title as Captain of the Guard and all honors that have been given to you with that title.”

Bazz could not help the shock and anger that coursed through him in that moment. He had spent so much of his life dedicated to the Guard, to working his way up in the ranks. In a moment, all that hard work was gone, as if swept under some ugly rug.

“Your Majesty, please d-”

“Do not test my patience, Bazz. It is already dangerously thin with you. Say one more word and I will not hesitate to send you into exile or worse. Is that clear?”

His hands shook in rage, but he kept his mouth shut and nodded. Oh yes, he was starting to understand alright.

“Good. You will turn in your affects before the day is done. You have my leave to go.”

King Dorephan waved Bazz out of the room with a dismissive flick of his wrist. He turned and made his way from the throne room, keeping his face impassive.

He was right to have not answered the King’s questions with the complete truth. He’d hate to see what would have become of him if Dorephan had known he’d smelled the poison in the food meant for Link. Knew that the King had knowingly wanted death to be fed to a prisoner.

A part of him wished and hoped that the King did not know it was Link he had sent that food to. Hoped it was just his King’s grief that wanted to kill one of the people supposedly responsible for Prince Sidon’s death. Another part of him knew his King was too smart not to know who he kept in his dungeons.

It was that realization that sent a chill down his spine.

Still keeping his face impassive, he made his way to the main hub for the Royal Guard, collecting his issued gear and armor as if on autopilot. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts, to try to place all these pieces together.

The Prince left the Domain over a week ago to make his way to Central Hyrule and was brutally killed by the Yiga Clan while still in the Domain.

Only two days later, it had been announced that one of the Yiga members responsible for the Prince’s death had been captured and brought to the dungeons. Everyone under his command had whispered amongst each other, trying to figure out who had brought the culprit in, how had they’d known who to look for.

Now that he had a chance to truly think on the strangeness of the situation, Bazz stopped for a moment in gathering his things, pondering the thought further. Who had been the team to bring the culprit in?

A short trip later had him perusing the log book for the past week, seeing if anyone had been sent out on assignment or if someone had not showed for work. Even the quick look he gave the paperwork revealed what he’d already suspected: almost everyone under his command, everyone in the Royal Guard, could be accounted for.

The only one who wasn’t, of course, was the King’s personal guard, Dion. He was never held to the same standards as the other guards. Any logs of his activity, where he went, where he had been, who he spoke with, was handled directly by Muzu. No if, ands, or butts about it.

Shelving the documents once more, he made his way back to his equipment, and continued to gather everything together. Once done, he made his back out of the locker room, stopping dead when he felt the blade of a knife pressed to his throat, the hand placing it there coming from over his shoulder.

“Don’t move, just listen. You’ve done Hyrule a service, not feeding the Hero that food. You’ve put yourself into some seriously hot water in doing so though. The King sent me to kill you, Bazz.”

The whispered voice had his heart pounding hard and fast in his chest as he tried to do his best to keep himself calm. Who was this person? Their voice didn’t sound familiar and there was no way for him to turn his head to get a better look at them. Not unless he wanted to lose his head.

“You need to disappear. For your own good, you need to make yourself scarce.”

“Where do I go?” He asked, his voice a whisper too.

“Anywhere but here. You need to leave now and don’t stop until you’ve completely left the Domain. Now, I’m going to let you go. If you turn around, I will not hesitate to follow through with my orders.”

The knife was suddenly gone and hands roughly pushed him further down the long hallway. Bazz doesn’t hesitate, needs no further prompting. He drops his guard equipment and runs. He runs as fast as his legs will take him.

He doesn’t look back.

Not when he bumps into other Royal Guards, not when someone calls for him, not when someone asks where he’s going in such a rush. He runs, heart pumping, legs aching, lungs burning.

Bazz dove into the water surrounding the palace and powers himself through it.

He cannot afford to look back. He has no way of knowing if eyes are still watching him, still waiting for him to disobey another order.

So he swims, never to return to Zora’s Domain again.


	3. Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorephan panics. Bazz swims on. Link watches a sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter here, but I hope you all enjoy it none the less.

Muzu had been the King’s advisor for the entirety of his adult life. He had watched him deal with tragedy and pain, time and time again.

In all those years, he had never been asked to come to the King’s private quarters, nor had he ever seen his King quite so frazzled. Not when Princess Mipha had passed, nor when the Divine Beast awoke once more.

“Muzu, we need a plan.”

“A plan for what, sire?”

The King, his head floating just above the surface of his giant sleeping pool, remained silent for a beat.

“To save face, to keep my reign intact. With Zelda having taken the Hero from us, I’m certain it’s only a matter of time until she learns of where he’s been all these years. I cannot have her bringing those sorts of stories about my son to light. My people need only remember him as their Prince, not as anything else.”

He paused, dunking his enormous head under the warmed water for a moment before surfacing again.

“This has the potential to fall around us further, Muzu. But, really, there is only so much that can be planned for. Only so much that could have been done before now.”

Muzu was unsure if the last of the King’s words were meant for him or not.

“Of course, sir, you’ve made the best judgement calls on this situation that you could.”

“Yes…yes, of course I did. What else could I have done.”

“Nothing sire, you did everything you could.”

He doesn’t know if he truly believes his own words, but Muzu knows it will help calm his King’s nerves.

Dorephan sighs deeply, causing a slew of bubbles to form around him. He says nothing for several long minutes and Muzu waits patiently for his orders.

“Muzu.”

“Yes, my King?”

“Send out an order for me, immediately sealing the borders of Zora’s Domain. Have all none Zora expelled.”

“Sire?”

Dorephan turned his attention to his adviser and Muzu did not miss the icy fire in them.

“There will be nothing coming in, nor going out from my Domain. No goods, no services, no news. We are a long living people and other races are often quick to forget past wrongs when something they need is taken from them. Our natural resources are many and we are self-reliant. I will not let my people’s faith in my rule waiver because of the mistakes of my son. Do I make myself clear?”

Had Muzu been a younger Zora, he might have found himself shivering in fear from the King’s tone. HE was old though and heard many terrible things from the King’s mouth.

“I do, King Dorephan.”

With those words, the giant Zora King dismissed Muzu with a wave of his hand.

As he exited, Dion, the King’s personal attended and bodyguard, stood outside, waiting for entrance.

Muzu bowed his head in greeting an Dion returned the gesture.

“Have you done what the King asked of you?” Muzu asked the much younger Zora flatly.

“Yes sir, I did.”

“Good, the King is in a mood. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear some good news.” He said softly, walking away as Dion entered the King’s chambers.

Muzu sighed softly, slowly making his way up to the surface. It was a shame, really. Muzu had always enjoyed Bazz as the Head of the Royal Guard. It would be a pain trying to find someone to replace him.

\------------------------------------------------

Bazz swam, non-stop, for two days and two nights, following the river from Zora’s Domain out to Central Hyrule.

He was exhausted, more than he had ever been before. His muscles burned under his skin, his stomach growled and throbbed in hunger pains, and he was near delirious from lack of sleep. His body felt so weak, so nearly not his own anymore.

But he had to keep going, had to find somewhere safe.

 

It was that mantra thank kept him swimming, slowly, painfully, stroke by stroke. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want the King to kill him-

The next thing he is aware of is his eyes fluttering open. He doesn’t remember passing out.

The dark stone that lay overhead quelled his immediate and panicked thought. He wasn’t back in Zora’s Domain. He would not have woken up if that was the case.

Slowly, still so sore and weak from his days’ worth of swimming, he sat up in the cot he found himself on and took in his surroundings. The same dark gray stone of the ceiling made up the floor and three of the walls. Thick bars lay directly in front of him, an armored person standing guard. So, he was in a cell somewhere that wasn’t Zora’s Domain.

That was something to be grateful for, he supposed.

He turned his attention to his own body, trying to asses if there were any injuries that would account for some of the pain he felt. He found his upper arms and calves bruised extensively, though he had the feeling that was more from smacking his body into the rocks of the river in his hurried flight. His chest, however, did make his concerned.

While Bazz had always been a lean, mean, fighting machine of a Zora, his non-stop swimming had made his body eat at itself in the most terrible way. He had heard of this happening before, of Zora’s who swam without rest and turned skeletal before their own eyes.

His hand ghosting over his sides, he could easily count his ribs and, when he ran his hands over his neck and face, he found his features gaunt and nearly emaciated. Gently shuffling his feet to hang over the side of the cot, the tinkling of chains caught his attention.

When he looked down, he found a thick, mean looking shackle around his ankle, the chain attached to it leading to the far wall. He shuffled his foot again, listening to the tinkling of the chains once more.

He thoughts flashback to another cell, to the Hylian held within it, to the shackle that was around his neck. Chained and held like some sort of animal. He chuckled darkly under his breath; wherever he was, they at least were treating him better then Link had been in Zora’s Domain.

The guard, who had been still as stone, shifted at the noise of his chains clinking together. Bazz met the guard’s eyes, realizing it was a Hylian man who stood watch.

“Ah, you’re awake I see. I’ll send for some food. You certainly look like you could use some meat on those bones.” His voice was even and unreadable, betraying none of what he felt.

He shifted again and made to leave his post. Before he disappeared from his sight, Bazz called out to him, his voice weak and quiet.

“Sir, if you wouldn’t mind telling me, where am I?”

 The guard stopped and turned his attention to Bazz once more.

“Why, you’re in the Hyrule Castle Dungeons.”

Bazz took a deep and steadying breath, panic sinking back into his bones.

\--------------------------------------------------

When Link awakens, it takes him several moments to realize that he is not shackled to the bed. It takes him a full minute, all the while panic and terror trying to freeze his veins solid, to remember why he is met with dark wooden walls instead of deep blue rocks.

He remembers the wind in his hair, riding through the night, his legs shaking and giving out from under him as he dismounted a horse. He remembers Zelda, her face older and hair shorter than Before, telling him where he was. Telling him what had happened to the Prince.

A terrible, awful feeling fills him at the thought of Sidon.

He recognizes the individual components: the rage for what Sidon had done to him, the joy of knowing he could never have him again, and a heart wrenching grief, the one thing Link never thought he would feel about Sidon’s death.

But it was there, cold and awful, tearing his heart into bloody ribbons. Before he can even try to quell it, tears well in his eyes and the same broken laughter from when he sobbed against the Princess’ shoulder mixes with his grief.

He pushes his palms against his face, the pressure near painful, as he wills his tears to stop. The death of his captor wasn’t something he ever wanted to feel sad about. He’d day dreamed often in the first few months of his captivity, especially after Sidon had broken and nearly ripped his arm to shreds.

The daydream was always the same, time and time again.

He would get a burst of strength and wrench himself from the shackles that bound him. His hands would be strong, his movements barbaric and he would slowly, painfully, pull the life from the Zora Prince, piece by piece. He would chain him up and own him, as Sidon had done to him again and again and again. He would pull his teeth out, leaving the Prince to gag on his own blood. He’d cut the fin from his head and leave it as the only thing for him to eat. He would do everything Sidon had done to him and so much more.

Link’s rage-fueled day dreams had always told him that, when the day came and Sidon was finally dead, he would relish it. A part of him did, in some way.

But there remained a part of him that wallowed in sadness.

No just for everything that had been taken from him, but for the loss of the Prince as well. A slithering snake of self-hatred and disgust wormed its way into his heart at the thought. He shouldn’t feel like this. Why in the world did he feel like this?

_You’re mine. Forever. I’ll never let you go, Link._

Sidon’s words resonated in his mind and it sent a shiver down his spine. Whether it was from fear or excitement, he wasn’t sure and the thought alone set a cold lump of panic into his stomach.

He stood from the bed at that point, naked as he had been when he went to sleep, his legs still weak beneath him, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. As new ones rolled down his cheeks, he sighed and halted his attempts to stop them. They pooled at his chin and dropped to the carpeted floor beneath, making the faintest plopping noise. He let these awful emotions roll over him, let his heart ache, let his eyes shed the tears they needed to.

He turned his sight, watery as it was, to the window of the room and his breath stilled for a moment. The beginnings of sunlight colored the horizon. Eyes still full of tears, he stepped to the window and rested his shaking hands against the windowsill. As he watched the sunrise, the first he had seen in years, his tears continued rolling down his cheeks as the Prince’s voice echoed in his head again and again and again.

_You’re mine. Forever. I’ll never let you go, Link._

He was free. Sidon could never lay hands on him again. He knew this, but the joy that fact should have roused in him was stunted. This freedom should have been more than enough for him, right?

The sun rose, coloring the skies with oranges and reds and yellows that Link thought he would never see again.

 He cried and he laughed. Brokenly, painfully, his shoulders shaking, he cried and he laughed.

He may no longer be held within that beautiful, blue room beneath Zora’s Domain, but he knew, in his heart of hearts, that a part of him was still trapped.

_You’re mine. Forever. I’ll never let you go, Link._

When Sidon had said forever, he had meant it.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Dion closed the door to the King’s chamber behind him, only stepping forward when he was beckoned to do so. He bows deeply at the edge of the pool, his face impassive as always.

“Is it done, Dion?”

“Yes, my King. Bazz is no longer here.”

“Good, yes, very good.”

A long silence stretched out between them and Dion weathered it like it was his second nature.

“Dion?”

“Yes, my King.”

“I will need you to take care of a few more…problem areas, for me. The Zora who my son took to his private room, you remember them, yes?”

Dion nodded.

“If you could, please remind them of the need for discretion with their experiences. I need them to know that Sidon’s death does not mean their silence is no longer required.”

“Of course, I am yours to command sire.”

“On your way, then.”

Dion bowed low and saw himself from the room, face still unreadable. Though, underneath, he was a sea of boiling rage.

His own sister had been one of those who had caught the Prince’s eye, had been dragged to that terrible room beneath the palace. She had taken her own life not long after, so deep was the wound Sidon had inflicted on her soul.

What the King asked of him was unforgivable. An unforgivable act deserved an unforgivable punishment.

Dion would see to that.


	4. Rumor Mill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda begins to fully understand the extent of Link's injuries. Dion is pleased with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait, I've had some serious personal stuff come up that needed dealt with. Thank you again!

Zelda had slept only a few hours over the past few days and it was beginning to show. Bags had since started to form under her eyes and she could be found yawning into her hand, more often then not.

Between riding through the night in Link’s rescue, to sending off letter after letter to three of the four corners of Hyrule, to seeing to the million and one other responsibilities that still needed her attention after her return, Zelda had hardly a moment to herself.

So, when the afternoon of the third day since Link’s return to the Castle rolled around and she found herself not immediately needed, she stole a chance to visit Link. With her, she took her personal apothecary and healer, Effie.

“Princess, if I might ask, where is it that we are going?” The woman, not much older than Zelda in appearance, asked.

“There’s a friend of mine who has been…mistreated, we’ll say. For a while now. I fear that he may have injuries that cannot be easily seen. I was hoping to get your trained eyes to look over him, to see if there’s anything that’s happened to him that we can help with.”

“Oh, of course Princess. I appreciate you trusting me with this.”

“Of course, Effie. Though, I will ask that you keep this appointment to yourself. There are those who would prefer to see my friend gone and I would not want his location revealed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Princess, my lips are welded shut.”

Zelda nodded, satisfied with the answer.

As they neared the door to his room, she could feel her heart begin to thud in her ears. Every time she had since seen Link, in the few moments between her other duties, he was always in some state of fear. Even when his hands did not shake, she could see it in the way he would not look her in the eyes, in the way he hid half of his face behind his now long hair, in the way he only responded to her questions in as few signs as possible.

It broke her heart a little bit more each time she saw it.

Zelda knocked on Link’s door, the sound soft but present.

She had learned the hard way, during his first day back in the castle, that entering his room without being expressly invited did him more harm than good.

In entering the room without prompting from him, she had set something silent off in him. His attention had turned to where she stood in the doorway, his entire body going rigid, his face colored by panic, and then it fell away in an instant.

His eyes glazed over, his shoulders slacked, his face became unreadable. When she tried to speak to him, he didn’t respond. When she shook his shoulders, brushed the hair out of his eyes, when she tried anything to rouse a reaction from him, there was nothing. He breathed, his heart still had a beat, and he blinked, but he wasn’t there. Link had left and all there was a shell.

She’d seen this before, as a very young girl. The memories of soldiers returning from battle came to her mind’s eye, so many with that glazed, lifeless look to their eyes.

So, even though she had no discernable way of helping him, she waited. She had appointments to keep and people she needed to speak with, but she knew this was more important. Being here to help Link in any way she could, would always be more important. Five minutes became ten became twenty became a whole hour before he roused himself from the stupor her arrival had wont on him.

When she told him what had happened, he began trying to apologize profusely and signed something that looked too closely to ‘I won’t do it again’ for her liking. They’d spent the better part of a half hour slowly coming up with an appropriate way for her to enter his room.

She snapped back to attention as a responding knock gently sounded from the other side of the door.

“It’s me Link, it’s Zelda. I brought my healer with me to look over any injuries you might have. Would you be ok with us coming in? We can always come back later, if you’d like.”

In the few moments she had to herself, truly to herself, she still busied herself with learning. The official name she had found describing Link’s behavior was ‘Soldier’s Eyes’ and very little existed in the way of helping someone try to recover from it. Any text she had found about it mostly described what the symptoms were and left it at that. The only bit of coping information she had found was that, it seemed at least, those inflicted with this did better when given options when something was asked of them. So, every chance she got, she gave Link to opportunity to choose what he was comfortable with.

A very long half minute passed before the door cracked open. She knew that was as much of a response as she was going to get.

She gently pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Link stood a few feet away, eyes cast to the floor, arms hanging loosely at his side, the most loose fitting tunic that Zelda had sent up for him nearly hanging off one of his shoulders. Even at just a glance, she could easily make out an array of scars on his skin, some of them far too new and pink to be from before he had disappeared.

She saw his shoulders tense slightly as Effie closed the door behind her, coming to stand next to Zelda once more.

“Link, let me introduce Effie, my own personal healer.”

As was appropriate, Effie bowed at the waist towards Link, showing her respect for the Hero of Hyrule. Again, his eyes would not meet either her nor Effie’s, but he did bow his head in return.

“Link, like I said outside the door, I brought Effie here to look over any injuries you might have. Is there anywhere you’re in pain that you’re comfortable having her examine?”

Again, it was a long moment before Link responded, nodding his head.

“Certainly Master Link, would you please show me?”

He tensed again, his eyes going wide in terror for the briefest of moments, before he nodded again. Slowly, he rolled up the far too long sleeve covering his left arm. As the fabric was rolled, revealing the skin of his forearm bit by bit, Zelda had to steel herself at the sight of what lay underneath.

It was more scar tissue then it was skin. What easily could have been hundreds of little scars ran up and down his arm, forming half and full circle marks that crisscrossed over one another. She had the distinct thought that they looked suspiciously like bite marks.

A large and deep scar ran from the back of his hand to wrap itself around the arm, disappearing into the fabric that still covered his shoulder.

“Oh dear, that does look bad. Master Link, what’s your range of motion with that arm? Can you raise it above your head?”

His fingers twitched for a moment, before he slowly, carefully pulled the arm straight up. Or, tried to, anyways. His features, so expressionless since Effie had started speaking with him, contorted into one of pain.

“Oh, please don’t hurt yourself master Link. If you can show me how high you can reach up without it causing you pain?”

He complied immediately, almost too quickly for Zelda to not notice. His face slacked again as he lowered his arm to where it no longer hurt him. His bicep was only just in line with his shoulder. His elbow bent at a near perfect ninety-degree angle. His hand twitched again, seemingly involuntary.

“Thank you very much. Are you able to make a fist at all? Again, make as much of one as you can without it hurting, alright?”

His fingers were only just touching his touching his thumb when he stopped moving.

That same icy hot rage she had felt while in Zora’s Domain had reared its ugly head again once more. She need not know all the gritty details of Link’s time spent in the care of the Zora Prince to know what he’d tried to do to Link.

Control. From the inside out.

She did her best to calm the storm inside herself. It would do Link no good for her to show those sorts of emotions. Not here, not now.

He was alive and he was safe. For now, that was more than enough for her.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was easy enough to slip information to the general public, easy enough for its source to get lost in the grapevine effect the Zora guards and citizens had amongst each other.

It’s a week after Bazz’s meeting with the King that Zora’s Domain finds itself full of a silent but notable buzzing.

The borders had been ordered shut. All non Zora had been forced to leave, effective immediately. The Head of the Royal Guard was nowhere to be found.

Everyone had heard from someone, who had heard it from someone else, that the King had never captured a Yiga Clan member.

They heard that the King had, instead, held the Hero of Hyrule captive and right under their noses.

When that rumor began circulating, other tidbits, other whispers of something far worse start being spoken of.

Voices, tired and scared and hurt, began to whisper about a room below the castle. A room that belonged solely to the Prince, where he’d bring those that he loved and cherished for a night of fun. At least, that’s what they were told before being made to enter.

Whispers circulated and spoke about Zora after Zora being taken there, some willingly, some not.

“Remember Selaa? Dion’s sister? She was taken there, I heard. That’s why she killed herself, that’s what they say.”

Regardless of how they went it, they all came out the same. Some part of them broken, some part of them gone.

More whispers spoke of how the King would have known. How could he not. He’d paid for silence about his son’s antics, how could he not notice when there were no more victims coming to him, asking him for justice.

They whispered about how it could not be a coincidence that once their Prince was gone, the Hero was to be found in their dungeons. Those previously under Bazz’s command made mention of how he’d been put on night duty for the supposed Yiga member. How it was only days after that he was just gone.

There were those who spoke of seeing Bazz fleeing into the river, no words slowing him.

They were a people that loved their King, had once loved their Prince. But they were not stupid.

These whispers began as embers that were fanned to life the more they were spoken of.

The eventual flame that roared to life was filled with the pain and rage of a people wronged time and again by their King and his son. They were the people of the Domain, not mere playthings.

The King seemed to have forgotten that fact. The Zora people would have to remind him.

Dion smiled to himself one afternoon, about three weeks after Link’s flight from the Domain, as he overheard hushed and angry whispers in every corner of the Domain that he patrolled.

The Zora people were irate and it was everything Dion could have hoped for.


	5. Coping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bazz has something to tell the Princess. Link tries to cope.

Though the weather of Central Hyrule tended to have temperate weather all year round, Bazz often found the stones of his cell to have a certain sting of coldness to them. Whether the chill was real or simply a figment of his imagination, he would never know. All he knew was that it was hard to tell how much time had passed, how many times day had turned into night and night into day. There were no windows where he was kept, no means for him to tally the hours. Where he not so constantly caught up in his own thoughts, perhaps it would be a little more maddening.

He was fed well enough, but not so well that he was readily replacing the mass he’d lost during his hectic flight from the Domain. The guards were cordial to him, or as best as they could be. He had refused to speak since his initial question of wondering where he was. Time and time again, the guards would ask,

“Just tell us why you were in the moat to begin with. Were you trying to sneak into the castle from there?”

Time and time again, he refused to so much as acknowledge them. He had no way of knowing how far King Dorephan’s influence stretched, had no way of knowing who could be trusted. All he had were his own thoughts and these scattered facts that time and time again, he couldn’t fit together.

The King had wanted Link, the very person who had saved Hyrule, dead. He had personally ordered food laced with poison to be fed to him. An assassin whose face he would never know, warning him of the King’s rage at that order not being followed. And Link himself; expression blank and full of pain at the same time, locked away in that blue cell. There was a narrative to go with these facts, but stringing it together without all the scenes or all the player would be impossible.

So, he stayed silent. That was, until he overheard a particularly alarming whispered conversation between the guards.

“What do you mean, Zora’s Domain is closed?”

“Yeah, couple of traveling merchants got kicked out from there and have been talking up a storm about it. Asking to see the Princess, trying to find old trade agreements, you name it, they’re looking for a way to annul the blockade.”

An icy cold pit formed in Bazz’s stomach at those words. Link…Link was surely still there, still trapped. For all Bazz knew, he was still in that cell, shackled to the wall, collared like some beast.

The Princess had only a few months prior given up her search for him. Surely, if anyone still wanted to find him, had the power to find him, it would be her.

“Excuse me,” The guard standing just outside his cell jumped at the sound of his voice, “but I need to speak with the Princess immediately, please.”

The guard spun on his heels to face Bazz

“Whoa there, hang on, our Princess is a very busy woman. We can see about getting you an audience with her in a few days’ time if she’s-”

“She’ll want to speak with me, I guarantee it.”

“Like I said, she’s extremely busy and-”

“Tell the Princess that I know where the Hero of Hyrule has disappeared to.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been over three weeks since Link had been rescued and every day had been agony. The world outside his room was so, so much busier then he remembered it being. Even just looking out his window, watching what looked like hundreds and hundreds of people milling around set him on edge. His world had for so long only been made up of him and Sidon, the thought of having to ever navigate such a crowded space made his chest tighten painfully. He did his best to not look out the window during the busier times of the day.

Zelda was good to him. Perhaps more so than he deserved, a part of him thought.

She visited him every chance she got, it seemed. Often, she would fill the silence of the room by telling him about her day. About trade routes and rebuilding efforts and literally anything other than where he had disappeared to. He was so grateful to her for those visits, those moments where she helped him feel like he was his old self.

One day, she even set up shop at the large desk in the room she had given him, mulling over documents and letters that needed answering. That was how she spent her day, quietly doing work and, every so often, asking him about his opinion about how she wanted to word something. If responded with a recommendation, she would implement it. If his hands stayed folded in his lap, she’d continue without missing a beat.

She never forced a conversation on him, never got upset when a memory or thought would sweep him away for minutes at a time. She never forced him to eat the food the attendants left outside his room.

She only ever asked if the food was to his liking or not, if there was something he couldn’t stomach. Slowly, but surely, he answered her and a list began to grow.

No rice.

No fish.

No crab.

No seafood at all.

Bread, please.

Stews, please.

Apples, durian, any kind of fruit, please.

With each new request, the food on his tray changed. Roasted bird, bread, and a piece of nut cake was the first meal he could eat more than a few bites of. The following morning, his tray was filled with handfuls of freshly cut fruit.

The first bite of apple he took nearly had him in tears. It was cool and sweet and so much more delicious then he remembered it being.

 

She never made any comments on the amount and type of clothing he wore. He found that he could hardly stand any of the more appropriately sized clothes Zelda had brought to his room. No, instead he found himself most comfortable with the much more loose and lazy cut of the sleep tunics. Any shame he might have had about others seeing him nude had long since left him. The only reason he wore anything at all was to save her the embarrassment of seeing his buck naked.

Zelda never brought attention to the metal around his neck nor the pink and puckered scars scattered on his skin that could not be missed. She never raised her voice. She never pushed for more information then what he had given her during his first night free.

She was just, there.

Part of him was thankful for the company, quiet and tense at times though it was. Part of him never wanted to see her or anyone ever again.

But she’s not there at all times. She couldn’t be and he refuses her offer, terror and disgust clinging to him tightly, for one of her guards to be posted outside his room. There was a primal fear in him that roared to life when he thought about someone watching over him day and night.

_It’s for your own good, my love. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to._

The words, wrapped in that handsome, regal tone, surfaced when the discussion was brought up.

He knew how his behavior must seem odd or even rude to the Princess. She was just trying to help him, just trying to be a good host, a goo ruler. But he didn’t have the words for how he felt. It was more than anger or shame or terror. It was something deep inside him that was constantly being tugged at and it ached to be given a name.

Thankfully, Zelda did not argue with him over this. She only asked that, should he decide to leave his room, if he could leave a note in the room letting her know he had stepped out. That if he ever changed his mind, he need only ask.

He could agree to that.

Since the very first day of his arrival, Zelda had made it a point to tell him, time and time again, that this room was not his prison. He was her guest and, as such, was welcome to come and go as he pleased.

The first week he only ever moved from his bed to eat or relieve himself, even though there were no shackles to bind him close to the bed. Though the walls weren’t blue and the room itself was comfortably warm and dry, a large part of him was still convinced that Sidon would show up at any moment, furious. He had no desire to see him furious ever again.

The second week wasn’t much better, though he at least allowed himself the thought of stepping outside his room, if just for a moment or two. That same part that had him convinced of Sidon’s certain return clamped a cold hand of terror around his throat if he allowed himself to think too much about going outside. At least in here, maybe, Sidon wouldn’t find him.

By the third week, he managed to take a few steps into the hallway outside his room. The polished rock of the hallway was so different from the plush carpet of his room. He found it hard to walk but a few feet from his door.

 He knew, or at least some part of him knew, that he would be unrecognizable as he was. But still, he was afraid to be seen, horrified by the thought that someone might look at him and just know what had been done to him. That someone might recognize him and ask, innocently, ‘Goodness Link, where have you been all this time?’ How was he supposed to answer a question like that, when he couldn’t even turn his thoughts to the last few years of his life without pain gripping him tightly.

He was terrified that he would run into one of the Sheikah guards who had fled into the night with him and the Princess, because how could they not know about that terrible darkness Zora’s Domain had planted in him.

He was afraid that all this would turn to be a dream and would come crashing down on him again, that he would be back in Zora’s Domain before he knew it.

There was a part of him, a part that was slowly getting louder as the days went by, that told him there was no way anyone could tell what he’d been through. That just looking at him would tell them nothing below surface level. To any untrained eye, he was just a thin Hylian with unkept hair.

But every time he caught a look at himself in the mirror of the room, every time he saw how littered with scars from teeth and nails he hadn’t wanted, that same cold terror reaches from his guts and pulls at his throat and tells him ‘How could people not know when they look at me?’

He tried his best to not let himself get caught in that spiral of thoughts. But it was hard. Every day, every hour, every minute trying to calm himself, trying to convince himself that yes, he was free and that would never change-

_You’re mine forever._

He tried to cope as best he could. Goddesses had he been trying to cope, to not listen to that deep, melodious voice that sounded in his thoughts day in and day out. But it was hard.

Almost unbearably hard.

There had been so many times in that deep blue room of Zora’s Domain that he had quietly wished for death. That Sidon would leave him alone for one day too long, that his heart would stop in his sleep, that Sidon’s explosive rage would be triggered to a point where killing would be the only way to calm it. That same terrible, little thought would creep into his mind when he tried to think too far into the future or too far into the past.

It was just so much, all the time.

It’s during the night marking his fourth week away from Zora’s Domain, that Link dreams for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

Hands, red and white and so much larger than his own, dig to his hips, bruising the skin. A body rolls its hips into his own and punches noise after noise from his throat.

One of the hands snakes its way up his side and, with little warning, grabs hold of his neck, thumb pressing down firmly on his trachea.

_You’re mine forever._

As the hand squeezes tighter, as his hips are slammed against the body beneath him, a part of him is glad when the edges of his vision begin to darken. This was it, this was finally it. It was going to go too far and he was finally going to die and this would all be over-

Link awakens from his dream with the suddenness of being slapped. He sits up abruptly and holds his face in his hands, unable to quell his shivers, willing for his boiling blood to settle.

Link lays in his bed, trying to make sense of himself.

Disgust and confusion had become well known bedmates of his over the weeks. He felt it for what had happened to him, for how he reacted, for how weak he had been to stop it from happening to begin with.

It’s those same feelings that roll over him like waves from some terrible sea

His hand traces the mating bond scar on his shoulder, his skin prickling under his touch, sending shivers through him that pooled in his groin, making his blood rush.

Goddess, what was wrong with him.


End file.
